Heart of a Saxon
Kelly stooped low in the bushes, hoping not to be seen. Any minute now they’d leave. Her backpack rested lightly on her shoulders. There wasn’t much in it, but the thought of its contents filled her with excitement. Finally, they appeared at the outer gate of their mansion. Mr. Saxon drove and Mrs. Saxon, that bitch, sat in the passenger seat. Turning onto the street, they glided slowly away while the gate closed swiftly behind them. Privacy abounded in a rich neighborhood like this. Gates, high walls, alarms, hedges, on and on. Even the road leading here looked like nothing more than an ill-kept service road until it curved and exploded into manicured lawns and private tennis courts. CEOs like Mr. Saxon got to live here. Receptionists like Kelly did not. ...